


Woo Me With Your Words

by obscurial



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Devoted Fan Isak, Favorite Author, Fluff, God this is such self-indulgent fluff, M/M, Romance Novelist Even, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not even joking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscurial/pseuds/obscurial
Summary: It’s not very often that Isak finds the confidence within himself to approach a handsome guy in a café.(A coffee shop au in which Even is Isak's favourite author.)





	Woo Me With Your Words

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by my lovely friend [lia](http://twitter.com/biologievak)!! thank you so much for planting this idea into my head, i simply had to write it!!! <3

It’s not very often that Isak finds the confidence within himself to approach a handsome guy in a café.

But god, the guy is _beautiful_. With his back slouched against the plush booth seat, he sprawls his impossibly long legs across the underneath of the table, looking effortlessly, frustratingly _perfect_. He frankly makes Isak want to just storm on over and ask him out _real_ bad.

He notices him the moment he steps into the café – the guy’s sitting in _his_ booth, really, so Isak was _bound_ to notice him instantly. It’s not the first time a stranger’s sat in his booth, which, might he just add, is the one seat in the _entire_ place with _no_ amount of natural sunlight and he’s got _sensitive_ eyes, so him choosing to consistently sit in a quiet booth at the corner of the café isn’t him getting emotionally attached to inanimate objects or anything, okay, it’s a _medical precaution_.

So he stops in his tracks, fingers still lingering on the café door, because the most gorgeous man in Norway, quite possibly the entire _world_ , is sitting in his seat. But hey, no biggie. He’ll just have to settle for another booth and endure the stinging pain in his eyes, and–

Holy fucking _shit_ , said gorgeous man is holding an _Art Vandeley_ novel.

“Um _excuse me_ , you’re blocking the way?”

Isak flinches, moving away from the entrance and trying his best not to seem like a fucking _idiot_ who blocks doorways for no good reason. The woman brushes past him with a judgemental stare, but at this point, he’s too mesmerised by Mr Booth-stealer to even care. He quickly slides into a nearby, empty seat, and immediately cranes his neck to get a better view of the book in the handsome stranger’s hands.

 _The Boy Who Couldn’t Hold His Breath Underwater_ , the title reads, and Isak instantaneously swoons, melting into the cushioned seat. _As if he couldn’t get any cuter_ , Isak sighs dreamily, feeling a lovesick smile curling across his face.

He remembers finding that novel a long, long time ago, back when he was still struggling with his own sexuality. It was Noora who had recommended it to him, mentioning something about great lgbt+ representation and an incredibly thoughtful insight on mental illnesses. Of course, that didn’t interest Isak in the _slightest_ – he only read it because he had stumbled upon the e-book for it online, while he was flicking through forums on a gay community website. (Which he had ended up on after undergoing a miniature crisis and turning to google for answers)

The forum user described the book as “life-changing” and wrote an extremely passionate review praising its tasteful exploration of homosexual relationships and mentally ill characters, before linking the free e-book in a later reply. But what _really_ drew Isak in was the small note tagged to the end of the review mentioning the _intense_ sex scenes between the two main male characters.

Blushing at the very thought, Isak hurriedly dismisses his memories before he ends up with a _very_ unwanted boner in the middle of a coffee shop that he regulars at. Looking back at the beautiful stranger, Isak notices the way his eyebrows are furrowed together as if in deep thought, his plump bottom lip drawn in-between his teeth as he bites down in concentration. _Fuck_ , he’s cute.

Feeling like he’s quite done with hesitating, Isak stands up, and approaches the stranger. He’ll mention the book, he decides, nodding resolutely to himself. After all, there’s no better way to start a conversation than to begin with common interests!

“Hi,” Isak blurts, instantly gaining the attention of the man and feeling slightly light-headed from the intensity of his stare, “I see that you’re reading a _Vandeley_ novel! I’m a big, _big_ fan. Are you?”

The man arches an eyebrow, his lips curling into an amused smirk.

“Oh, _are_ you?”

 _Fuck_ , his voice is even deeper than expected. Isak nods quickly, ignoring the incessant pounding in his ears and chest. The man gestures for Isak to sit, and he straightens his posture, retracting his legs to make space for him.

Slipping into the seat across him, Isak tries his best not to openly gape at the man’s gorgeous face (it’s kind of difficult), so he trains his gaze on the cover of the paperback novel.

“You know, I don’t actually like his work,” the man casually says, as if that didn’t just shatter all of Isak’s hopes and dreams.

“I’m sorry, you _what?_ ”

The man shrugs, placing the book aside to sip from his tall mug of herbal tea, “I don’t really like Art Vandeley’s writing. It feels narrow-minded, almost… superficial, in a sense. Tacky. Not good. Plus, all he ever writes are cheesy romance novels. I would suggest that he branch out his writing style, but from what I’ve seen, I really don’t think that he has the talent for it.”

Frowning, Isak crosses his arms across his chest, quite ready to defend his favourite author to the ends of the earth.

“And what makes you say that?” he calmly asks, despite the uneven pulsing of his heart in his throat.

Chuckling, the man picks up the novel, and flips through the browned pages with a disinterested smile.

“I don’t know, why don’t you think so, _superfan?_ ” he taunts, pausing his skim reading to watch Isak with the most _hypnotising_ blue eyes, and Isak very nearly forgets to answer his question, too mesmerised by the shimmering glint in the other’s pupils.

Narrowing his eyes, Isak huffs, slouching against the backrest of the seat as he avoids all eye contact with the stranger. “His books mean a _lot_ to me, okay. _The Boy Who Couldn’t Hold His Breath Underwater_ is a god damned _masterpiece_ , and it was there for me when no one else was. Vandeley creates these characters that you can’t help but _love_ , can’t help but _see_ yourself in… Reading about them overcoming their greatest fears is the most _empowering_ thing ever, and it really helped me through a pretty _shitty_ time of my life.”

Determined to persevere despite feeling an uncomfortable lump at the back of his throat, Isak continues, his voice thin and wavering, “Plus, what he writes aren’t just ‘cheesy romance novels’, alright? His novels are pure manifestations of his emotions and his imagination, and they act as _brilliant_ criticisms of today’s society. He writes about what’s important to him in the most _authentic_ way possible, and I don’t think I’ve ever found an author who’s ever been close to doing that.”

“I don’t think I’ll _ever_ love a writing style as much as I love his. He’s my idol, and I love him more than _anyone_ else in the world. So _fuck_ you, for thinking that you’re above a writer as _god_ damned amazing as Art Vandeley. Fuck _you_.”

Oh god. Isak regrets the words as soon as they slip past his lips, but it’s too late to take them back now. He shuts his eyes in utter embarrassment, and momentarily contemplates slamming his head into the table as hard as he can. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll pass out.

Why does he _always_ fuck up whenever there’s a cute guy involved? Why does his motor mouth _always_ have to be his biggest fucking _cockblock_?

Gathering all the courage within him, Isak glances up at the stranger, desperately hoping that he’s not _too_ offended.

The man’s face is tinted with a bright scarlet, from the tips of his ears all the way down to the base of his neck, and his eyes are wide and almost comical, practically _bulging_ out of his eye sockets. Isak blinks at the other in surprise, unsure as to whether he’s about to cry or start yelling.

Parting his lips, the stranger chokes out a small laugh as he puts the book down, before breaking into the _widest_ fucking grin Isak’s ever seen. At the back of his head, Isak absentmindedly thinks that it’s probably also the most _charming_ smile that he’s ever seen.

“O-Oh wow, I,” the stranger stutters, the bashful smile on his face making him look like an entirely different person, “Gosh, I don’t even know what to say to that. Thank you so, _so_ much.”

Scrunching his face in confusion, Isak squints his eyes at the man. (Also because the man’s smile is even brighter than the _Sun_ and Isak’s eyes are _seriously_ sensitive to light, oh my god)

The man stretches out a hand for Isak to shake as he brightly chirps, with traces of tears in his eyes, “Hello, my name’s Even Bech Næsheim, but I think you’d know me by my pen name, _Art Vandeley_.”

So, uh, the universe really does have it out for Isak Valtersen.

“Oh my god,” he panics, eyes large in disbelief, “Oh my god, no fucking way. I just. Oh my god. No way.”

“Articulate,” Even snorts, the smirk returning to his handsome face, “Also, is your pick-up line _really_ you introducing yourself as a big fan of mine?”

Feeling absolutely mortified, Isak yelps, covering his face with his hands and feeling the heat radiating off his glowing cheeks.

“Oh my god. I’m. I didn’t know you were this _beautiful_ in real life,” he incoherently squeaks, “Wait! Uh, I- I mean…”

Feeling a pair of calloused hands prying his palms away from his face, Isak startles, the entirety of his face resembling a red tomato.

Even smiles warmly, as he grips Isak’s hands tighter.

“Hey, I never said that it didn’t work,” he playfully teases, and Isak squirms in his seat as he tries his best not to erupt into flames. He thinks he could shatter into a million pieces right now, if he’s honest. “ _Pray tell, my love, I must know your name – for it will be my favourite word, and I will leave it on the tip of my tongue for the rest of eternity, where it rightfully belongs_.”

“Isak,” he breathes, “My name is Isak Valtersen. And if you _dare_ quote your book one more time, I think I might just fall even _harder_ for you than I already have.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> so that was probably the fluffiest thing i've ever written??? HAHAHA. i hope you liked it! kudos and comments would be very much appreciated <33


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